


My Lover is the Day I Can’t Forget

by orphan_account



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: 1979, F/F, Foreign-Exchange AU, Lesbian AU, Set on an Italian island, Summer Fling, slow-burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-22 19:50:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18534325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Summer 1979Trixie is an American exchange student visiting a house in Stromboli, Italy for the next four weeks. A fling ensues, resulting in a summer that she will never forget...(Sort of Call Me By Your Name inspired)





	1. I

“Now you have a good time Beatrice. Don’t make any mischief you wouldn’t make at home. We’ll see you in four weeks.” her mother pressed one chaste kiss on each of Trixie’s flushed cheeks before delicately waving and gently shutting the door of their azure-coloured Pontiac Firebird.

Trixie waved a small goodbye as the car sped off down the gravel road, into the distance. She watched it trundle up the winding roads until it disappeared into the horizon, leaving her alone. 

The tall blonde was in a daze, until a whistle behind her went off and she spun round to see the old ferry had parked up in the dock. 

“Passengers travelling to Stromboli by ferry please prepare your passports and board now.” the coast guard announced, standing up on a stool that had a high chance of giving way. 

Trixie grabbed her distressed brown suitcase that had one singular stamp that read ‘Naples, Italy’ —where she was in that moment, preparing to get on the ferry and sail off to her foreign exchange home in Stromboli. Her heels clicked on the hard wood floor of the pier, approaching the open top ferry that she’d be stuck on for the next hour and a half. 

“Let me assist you.” a young man smiled, taking her briefcase in one hand and her soft palm in the other, helping her step onto the boat which was bobbing up and down on the sparkling water.

“Thank you, sir.” she replied, taking her seat on one of the plasticky chairs, laying her denim jacket down below her so she could place her ass on it without sticking to it. Her seat gazed out onto the ocean ahead, to the left of it stood the bridge, where the driver sat. 

She clasped her hands in her lap, exhaling and shutting her eyes blissfully, taking in the warm sunlight and praying it’d leave a soft tan rather than a red burn. 

**————**

Trixie checked her watch. It read 3:13pm. She was waiting to be picked up by the leader of the foreign exchange programme so they could drive her to the home she’d be staying in for the next four weeks at quarter past. Two horns beeped in the distance before a small, orange BMW 2002tii came rolling down the sandy hill, dust flying all around.

“You are Beatrice, sì?” a beautiful, tanned woman rolled down the window once stopped in front of the tall blonde, asking from in the car. Her appearance was enticing, long chestnut locks thrown over one shoulder. 

“Yes that’s me, I go by Trixie. You must be madame Santolini, yes?” Trixie replied, hoping she could understand her English (considering she couldn’t speak Italian.)

“Sì, but call me Tatianna. Madame Santolini doesn’t make me sound any younger.” the woman chuckled, her English seeming perfect to Trixie. “Put your briefcase in the trunk, bella.”

Trixie obliged, opening the trunk carefully, and swinging her bag inside. She joined Tatianna by the front passenger seat, gazing out to the road in front of them. 

“Stromboli is beautiful. It must be such a joy to live here.” Trixie beamed as the car began, making a U-turn and rolling back up the hill it had just came down. The blonde had her hand out the window, the wind hitting it as they gained speed. It wasn’t the smoothest of journeys, but Trixie enjoyed every minute of it. 

“It is, yes, but it can be hard work. Hospitality is not easy here.” Tatianna sighed, tapping her nails on the steering wheel and taking a left turn so they were now facing a large cornfield. “We take in many different students from across the globe here, but you are only our second American! They mostly come from Britain, France or Russia.”

“Well, I’m honoured.” Trixie grinned, her eyes widening at the sight of a large ivy-covered house in the distance. It was surrounded by trees, a river and many stretching cornfields. “I-is that it?”

“It sure is!” 

The final stretch of road was straight, so Tatianna sped up and they zoomed down through the fields, up to the house and into a small parking spot beside the flowing river. Trixie climbed out the car, grabbed her briefcase, and followed Tatianna through the front gate, approaching the house.

“Ciao, ciao! Devi essere Beatrice, si? Sono Aquaria!” a beautiful, dark haired girl exclaimed, rushing over to Trixie and pecking each cheek. 

“Ummm...” Trixie froze, “Non parlo italiano?”

“Oh! My mistake. I said my name is Aquaria, and you must be Beatrice?” she introduced, fiddling with the hem of her loose, red sundress. 

“Nice to meet you.” Trixie shook her hand before turning to see two other girls stood there, both in model-like poses. Trixie didn’t get a chance to see both of their faces before the one on the right stepped forward and extended her hand, obstructing her view of the second girl.

“Bonjour, je m'appelle Violet.” the girl grinned. She had carefully styled raven hair, beach waves with sharp bangs. “You are the American, yes?” she smirked, her extremely strong French accent showing through. 

“Yes, that is me. Nice to meet you, Violet.” Trixie replied nervously, feeling Violet’s light-brown eyes analyse her slowly. 

The second girl stepped forward and Trixie nearly fainted. The beauty of every other woman instantly became irrelevant. This girl had dirty blonde shoulder-length bangs, sharp cheekbones and, best of all, thick, red lips. 

“My name is Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova,” she presented in a thick, Russian accent and Trixie raised a brow, “but you can call me Katya!”

Trixie refrained from kissing this girl’s cheeks, for some odd reason. She hesitantly gave Katya her hand to shake, but Katya grabbed it and pulled her into a quick embrace.

“You are Russian?” Trixie asked, pulling away from the embrace as swiftly as she could. 

“Yes, and you are from Wisconsin?” Katya answered and questioned.

“Milwaukee, yes.”

“Nice. Well you’ll be sharing a room with me.”

“I will?” Trixie was shocked. She assumed she’d have her own room, especially considering the large size of the house. 

“Mhm. Every other room is filled. Jose and Yvie stay on the second floor, Violet doesn’t actually live here— she’s just a neighbour from across the field. Tatianna has her own floor that she stays on with Aquaria, her niece, and _we_ have the attic.” Katya explained, Trixie barely understanding her through her accent.

“Yekaterina, could you take Trixie to your quarters? Remember to be down for dinner at 5!” Tatianna ordered sternly before dismissing them. Katya took Trixie’s bag, winked, and allowed her to follow her up the stairs.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trixie enjoys the leisures of miss Santolini’s home.

The room was tight and confined. It was clear which bed was Katya’s and which bed was unoccupied. Katya’s bed had orange pattered sheets draped over it, alongside countless multi-coloured cushions and throws. It was gross, but when Katya layed down on it, it looked beautiful, somehow. There was about three metres between Trixie’s bed and Katya’s bed, which were opposite one another.

“There is plenty of closet space in here but if you run out, Yvie has a fuck tonna’ spare drawers.” Katya grumbled, taking Trixie’s briefcase and laying it across the latter’s cream bedspread. 

“Thanks.” Trixie smiled slightly, unzipping her bag and wandering over to the closet, opening it and drawing her finger along the many wooden hangers. Slowly, she began to unpack, filling up the closet dress-by-dress. Katya observed the immense amount of pink, an unfamiliar colour to her. 

“Is that all you wear?” Katya asked smugly, laying across her bed with her chin hovering over her pale fist. 

“Hm?” Trixie replied, rather confused at Katya’s remark. She nearly dropped the dress she was in the middle of hanging up. Oh and you’ll never guess what colour the dress was— pink. 

“Do you _only_ wear pink?” the Russian chuckled, sitting up so her short legs were crossed over one another.

“No, not at all,” the taller blonde almost gasped, “I wear blue, yellow, orange on the occasion...”

“How versatile.” Katya grinned before swinging her legs over the end of the bed, strutting out the room. Trixie listened as her delicate feet padded down the stairs, and saw her emerge into the garden through the window. The American shrugged it off, continuing her unpacking. Once done, she grabbed the briefcase and pushed it under the bed.

“Katyaaaa?” she heard a voice call from outside her door. The accent was American. Finally, another American. Slowly, she approached the door and opened it, her eyes drawing upwards to meet the person’s face. “Where is Katya?” the face asked.

“I’m her new roommate, Trixie. And you are—“

“—Yvie. You’re the American, right? I’m from Denver!” 

“Yes, that’s me!” Trixie smiled wide, giving Yvie her hand to shake. Yvie took it and shook it roughly, before pulling away and clasping her hands in front of her in a prayer-like pose.

“Have you seen Katya?” she asked, fluttering her long lashes.

“She just went outside.” Trixie replied, chuckling as Yvie began to skip down the hallway like a child, down the stairs and out to the garden. _Everyone here is so odd—_ Trixie thought. 

Finally, Trixie completed her packing. She checked her watch clasped right around her wrist. It read 4:19. She still had around forty minutes before dinner. Perhaps a brief swim would do a bit of good. She stripped out of her loose pink dress, looking around to check no one was watching, before stripping out of her white underwear and pulling her yellow two-piece up her body. She grabbed some old denim shorts from the closet to wear over her bikini bottoms until she reached the pool. Slowly, she made her way down the stairs, tying her curly, blonde locks into a single plait as she walked. 

“Going for a swim, Beatrice?” Tatianna asked whilst Trixie was walking past the kitchen. The dark woman was carefully making ravioli, chopping up each square equally.

“Yes, is that alright?” Trixie replied, watching as Tatianna skilfully crafted each square. 

“Of course!” the brunet smiled, and the blonde returned one before jogging to the small pool out back. She removed her shorts as she ran, before instantly canon-balling in, creating a large splash. Normally, Trixie would be embarrassed at such a voluminous splash, but in this place she was so carefree and couldn’t give a flying fuck. 

She reached the surface once again, exhaling and giggling to herself. Once more, she dove down, pressing her hands against the bottom of the pool in a hand-stand. Her cousin had taught her how to do this four summers ago, when she was fourteen. And here she was, nineteen years old, displaying her skill to multiple strangers. She was able to hold it for twenty odd seconds, before having to push herself to the surface for a breath. 

“Who taught you to do that, huh?” she heard a voice say from behind her. She flipped round. _Violet_

“My cousin, Courtney.” Trixie told, neatening out her dripping blonde pig tails. 

“Can you do it on land?” the French asked, sitting on a small metal chair, drawing her fingers through her wavy, black hair. Trixie wouldn’t be surprised if she burnt her fingers with the scorching sun against the many raven strands. 

“No, no way. I’m far from elegant.” the blonde smiled, dunking herself under water once more. Once risen again, Violet spoke.

“Yekaterina can do it off ground.” 

“Can she now?”

“Mhm. Gymnast. Quite well known around Russia.”

“Interesting.” Trixie scoffed before submerging herself in the chlorine filled water for the fourth time. Once she was back on the surface, Violet was gone, the only thing remaining on the seat a magazine. Trixie’s eyes explored the garden from in the pool, eventually finding Violet on the other side of the green sitting on a rug with Katya. Chatting. Laughing. Smiling. Giggling. Trixie knew better than to approach, so she just found herself splashing about in the water like a lunatic?

“¿Qué es esto? Can the American not swim?” a deep, raspy voice boomed.

“She’s just splashing around, Jose!” she heard Yvie reply. She gazed up and saw a short man with dark hair and tan skin looking down at her, Yvie to his right. “Sorry about Jose. He’s always looking for an excuse to be the night and shining armour, but we all know he’s weak as fuck.” Yvie grinned.

“Shut it, bones.” Jose spat, shoving Yvie into the water. Trixie quickly dodged her so they didn’t land on top of one another.

“You bitch!” Yvie screamed, grabbing Jose’s hand once in the water and pulled him in with her.

“Oh shit.” Trixie uttered to herself before jumping out the pool. Yvie and Jose were too busy killing one another to notice, so Trixie just rushed to her room to dry off before they did. Luckily, Katya and Violet were still mingling outside, so she had the room to herself to dry off. _This’ll take a lot of getting used to—_ Trixie thought as she dragged the rough towel up and down her body. She rigged through her closet, trying to find something appropriate for dinner. She settled on a plain blue sundress and straw sunhat to top it off. There was a small mirror on the wall that Trixie admired herself in briefly. Suddenly, a loud bell went off from downstairs.

“Dinner is on the table!” Tatianna boomed, her voice bouncing off every wall in the house. You could then hear multiple pairs of sandals dart to the outdoor table, where the scent of spinach and ricotta ravioli lingered.

Trixie made her way down the spiralled wooden staircase, where she was greeted by Aquaria at the bottom, who led her out to the garden table where everyone was sitting around, drinking iced lemonade and laughing in their many different dialects.

“Buonasera, Beatrice. How are you enjoying our home so far?” Tatianna asked, kindly pouring her a glass of lemonade. 

“It is beautiful, thank you. The sun really hits it.” Trixie replied nonchalantly, despite her previous nervous encounters with the owner of the house. 

“I see you’re already enjoying the leisures of the pool.” Katya derided, taking a sip of what looked like champagne. Trixie wondered why Katya was offered champagne and no one else was. 

“Yes, actually.” Trixie muttered, almost offended by the Russian’s remark. It was almost as if her and Violet had already created some kind of vendetta against the blonde, which Trixie didn’t understand. What had she done? The warmest person so far seemed to be Yvie. 

“Come sit beside me.” Yvie offered, patting the soft cushion of the seat to the right of her. 

“Thank you.” Trixie watched as the dark skinned girl pulled the chair out for her. She sat in it slowly, picking up her glass of lemonade and taking small sips of it whilst listening to the chatter of the table. The most prominent conversation was the discussion of the succulent oranges in their orchard, and how Aquaria had never found one single seed in there. Once Trixie started at her ravioli, she just sunk back and didn’t pay any attention to any chatter, just concentrating on the beautiful delicacy that she took slow bites from. Suddenly, she heard her name escape someone’s lips. She looked up from her dish and found everyone’s eyes on her.

“Hm?” she said stupidly, still holding a mouthful of food. 

“Aquaria was wondering what you study in Wisconsin?” Violet rolled her eyes, taking a sip from her lemonade. 

“Oh,” Trixie set down her fork before beginning to speak, “I studied home economics and textiles for a while, Latin, literature and most humanities aside from geography. Oh and music, but that was mainly a hobby.” 

“What an interesting selection.” Yvie beamed, gazing at Trixie with her chin her her palm, “Katya plays cello!” 

“Does she now?” that was the second time Trixie had made that remark during a conversation about Katya’s abilities that day. “I play guitar, piano and something called an auto-harp. It’s like a guitar, harp, ukulele, accordion fusion kinda thing.” she rambled. 

“Do you sing?” Aquaria asked, taking a bite of her ravioli. 

“Yes, I adore singing.” Trixie was in her element. Surprisingly, there was nothing she loved more than talking about herself.

“My aunt sings. Don’t you?” Aquaria exclaimed, turning to Tatianna, “and the dark duo tries to sing.” she smirked.

“The dark duo?” the tall blonde raised a brow.

“Violet and Katya.” Jose piped in.

“Huh.” Trixie leaned back in her seat, swirling her lemonade around with her straw, making a mental note of the nickname. These two were ones to watch out for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are my kink, please comment;)


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trixie sees something she’s not meant to.

There was an en-suite attached to Trixie and Katya’s room. It was small, not much to it. The walls were covered in coral-coloured tiles that matched the colour of the ceramic bathtub. The sink matched the porcelain toilet bowl, then that—despite a small mirror and Katya’s singular toothbrush— was all there was in the room. 

Trixie set down her wash bag on top of the toilet, taking out her tooth brush and a turquoise face cloth. She didn’t brush her slightly crooked teeth for the full two minutes but she didn’t care. Slowly, she ran the face cloth under the cool, running water before drawing it over her flushed skin. 

“Preparing for bed so soon?” she heard a voice grumble, causing her to jump and immediately drop the dripping cloth. She saw Katya leaning against the door frame smugly, picking at her short nails. 

“The ferry trip exhausted me.” Trixie replied, ringing out the face cloth before walking past the Russian, back into their bedroom. Katya flipped round, her eyes scanning Trixie. “Don’t stare so hard.” the American snapped.

“Don’t be so eye-catching then.” Katya grinned before exiting the room.

“Where are you going so late?” the American questioned.

“Violet’s place.” the Russian replied, winking then disappearing down the stairs. After a few minutes, Trixie heard a faint ring of a bicycle bell, looking outside and watching as Katya saddled up on a rusty-looking bike. _What in the world would she be doing at Violet’s home so late? They really are the ‘dark duo’_ — Trixie thought to herself, laughing slightly at the nickname that Aquaria had earlier told her about. 

The American climbed under the thin covers, the old bed frame creaking slightly as she did so. Her clothing clung to her flesh with sweat, the warmth of the night too much for her. Throughout the night, she flipped her pillow multiple times. Every time she did so, she would gaze over to Katya’s bed, which remained empty. Trixie was seldom intrigued by Katya, but more-so irritated. Where trouble was, Katya seemed to follow, so with her mother’s own words, _“don’t make any mischief you wouldn’t make at home,”_ Trixie made the firm decision to stay out of Katya’s bullshit. But, that didn’t stop the image of the Russian woman from lingering in her mind as she drifted off to sleep.

**————**

Trixie woke up earlier than she had expected to. Her watch which she had since removed read 6:49. Tatianna had told her that breakfast was always on the table at eight, leaving the American plenty of time to explore the grounds.

She swung her long legs over the end of the bed frame, getting up and approaching her closet to choose an outfit for the day. She settled on a denim pinafore-dress (which she later discovered was a little too small for her, but was too exhausted to change it.) 

Trixie decided it’d be lovely to explore the many corn fields and orchards surrounding the house. She was a sucker for organic and home-grown fruit and vegetables, and she was especially excited that she was free to pick any oranges if she pleased (according to Aquaria.) 

“Buenos días, American barbie doll.” she heard a raspy voice say once she reached the back door of the house, prepared to leave for the backyard.

“Good morning, Jose.” she replied rather coldly, turning herself round slowly to see the young Puerto Rican stood on the landing, a book in hand. “Up so early?”

“Could say the same about you.” he replied, beginning to tread down the staircase slowly, his dark hand gripping the spruce banister. “I like reading by the lake, and this time is usually the quietest in the day. The frogs don’t seem to be awake yet.” 

“What do you read?” she asked, her eyes trailing to the boy’s hardback book. 

“It’s called _’The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,’”_ he chuckled, “pretty comedic. Says the meaning of life is ‘forty-two.’”

“That’s dumb.” Trixie blurted.

“That’s why I like it.”

“Can I join you by the lake?”

“Sure girl, come along.” Jose chuckled, grabbing Trixie’s hand and dragging her out the door, into the beautiful green gardens. The Puerto Rican didn’t let go of her soft hand until they reached the sparkling waters. 

“Is it cold?” Trixie asked hesitantly, making sure she wouldn’t freeze before she dipped in.

“Maybe a little.” 

“Can I swim in it?”

“Can you swim?”

“Yeah...”

“Well then you can.” Jose smirked and Trixie rolled her eyes, beaming. She stripped down to her underwear before dipping her feet in slightly. It was cold, but she was determined. Soon enough she was completely submerged by the glowing water. Jose just sat on the grass, reading peacefully, unfazed by the splashing barbie right in front of him. It was when Jose pulled out some materials, began rolling up a blunt and lit it to his mouth was when Trixie began to swim back to land, mouth agape. “What? Never seen a blunt before, bitch?”

“Not in real life, no.” Trixie uttered, “I live in a neighbourhood predominantly filled with posh white folk.”

“Figures.” Jose smirked, watching as the tall blonde climbed out the water. “Bitch, ain’t you freezing?”

“I am, but it’s whatever. I think I’m gonna go dry off before breakfast.” the blonde grabbed her clothes before skipping through the fields, following the sight of the large house in the distance.

“Have fun blanquita!” Jose called after her, taking a drag from his blunt. 

Trixie was wandering through the gardens, allowing her hair to dry naturally under the blaring sunlight. The grass was slightly damp, as they usually were in the morning. Trixie decided to explode the many trees consisting of almost every kind of fruit. 

Whilst she was admiring the succulent clementines, she was startled by a rustling sound. She looked around, seeing nothing, so continued what she was going before. Again. The rustling noise happened again. She _had_ to follow it this time. 

Slowly, she crept round the orchard, trying to find the source of the irritating sound. Her heartbeat sped up with fear. She had never been a daring person, but something urged her in. What she then found took her breath away completely.

Behind a bush, Trixie spotted two familiar faces. Katya had Violet pinned against a tree, kissing her neck, most likely leaving bruises. The Russian’s leg was hitched up between the French girl’s thighs whilst the later moaned against her. 

“Uhhh—“ was all Trixie managed to spit out. She regretted making a noise of any sort. Perhaps if she had turned around and ran back inside, she would’ve forgotten about it soon enough— but now the image was forever engrained in her brain. She recalled Violet’s eyes widening, staring up at her with a gasp.

“Katya! La fille américaine! Elle va le dire à Tatianna! Je vais la tuer!” _(Katya! The American girl! She’ll tell Tatianna! I’m going to kill her!)_ Violet yelled in French, pushing Katya off her, both their faces turning crimson red. Katya wiped a bead of sweat off her forehead, flipping her gaze to Trixie and giving her daggers.

“Ne la tuez pas. Nous devons juste trouver un moyen de la faire chanter.” _(Don’t kill her. We just need to find a way to blackmail her,)_ Katya said to Violet between gritted teeth, “Vous rentrez chez. Je vais m'occuper d'elle, d'accord? Sois prudent, belle. Je te verrai plus tard.” _(You go home. I’ll take care of her, okay? Be careful, beautiful. I will see you later.)_

The raven haired girl nodded, chewing on her bottom lip and visibly holding back tears. She allowed the Russian to press a chaste kiss against her cheek before sprinting off, across the cornfields towards her own home. Trixie watched as Violet disappeared into the distance, before turning back to Katya who looked as if she had reached boiling point and was about to bubble over.

“You can’t just snoop around people’s personal business, foolish child. Do you know how much Violet and I put on the line everyday whilst we do that? Only for you to come fuck it up. Don’t you fucking say anything to Tatianna, or Aquaria, or anyone. Stay the _fuck_ out of my way you stupid fucking American.” Katya spat, making Trixie feel so small, despite having a few inches against the former. “Nothing but a pretty face.” the Russian added before storming off towards the direction of the home that they shared.

It was a cliche, but there was nothing Trixie wanted more in that moment than to have the grass sink down below her, swallowing her up and preventing her from ever seeing any form of life again. There was a figurative knot in her stomach that kept tugging tighter and tighter by the second. She could hardly breathe. She wanted to go home. Not just to the large house ahead of her, into her temporary bed. No. She wanted to leave Stromboli, leave Italy, take the airplane and fly back to Wisconsin. Fly away from here. 

She knew exactly what she needed to do: _call home._

The American stormed back home and into the kitchen, tugging the telephone off the wall and dialling up her sister’s number as quick as humanly possible.

_“Trix, is that you?”_ she heard her sister’s monotonous voice utter from the other side of the line.

“Pearl, my god. You have no idea how thankful I am to hear your grim, grim voice.” Trixie exhaled, planting her hand against the cold bricks of the kitchen wall. 

_“How is Italy? Even better than anticipated?”_ Pearl asked. She had been jealous about the whole situation, because she was allegedly ‘too old’ for the exchange programme— even at the age of twenty-three. 

“I managed to make two enemies, two acquaintances and a whole lot of fuckin’ mess.” the tall blonde groaned, now leaning her back against the brick. Her clothing was still sodden from her early morning swim, accompanied by Jose— but that was the least of her worries. 

_“How’d you manage to cause havoc so fast? Didn’t Ma say to stay outta that bullshit?”_

“She did. But bullshit follows me. All the way to Europe, apparently.” 

_”Oh well. Only three weeks, six days left.”_


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katya is being cold, Trixie is feeling guilty, Aquaria is a broken soul & Naomi Smalls is half-naked in Kim Chi’s kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lots of italian (with translations!) ;)

Trixie spent the night on the couch, draped in woollen blankets that irritated her sensitive skin, causing her to constantly itch rather than sleep. She attempted to spend the night in her own bed, but Tatianna blocked her from entering the room.

“Yekaterina is feverish.” — is what the tall Italian woman said sternly, before shooing Trixie off some place else. 

The poor American felt nothing but guilt. She didn’t mean to see Katya and Violet’s encounter, and she wouldn’t _dare_ tell another soul. Nothing about the situation was her fault whatsoever and if anything, Katya should’ve been even kinder than usual. Trixie had a massive secret of the Russian’s on her tongue that she could spit out anytime she pleased. But, she wouldn’t even dream of doing such an awful thing. Quite frankly she couldn’t care less who Katya chose to kiss - since she was staying out of Katya’s bullshit, remember.

So here she lay, her vast amount of curly blonde locks splayed above her aching head in a halo and her legs tucked up against her under-boob, little tears streaming from her eyes. 

_“Nothing but a pretty face.”_

The words burned into her like a sizzling hot poker. Perhaps if Jose spoke them, or Aquaria, or even her own sister—Pearl— spoke them, she wouldn’t be hurting so much.

“Che cos'è questo?” _(What is this?)_ she heard a voice gasp, “Perché sei sul divano così tardi?” _(Why are you on the couch so late?)_

Trixie slowly lifted her body up to see who was spitting foreign words towards her at this hour. Aquaria was stood in front of her, clad in her silk night gown. Trixie was able to see the girl’s natural hair. It was a cascade of jet black ringlets, rather than the straighter look she would sport in the daytime. 

“Sorry Aquaria... I don’t speak Italian...” Trixie mumbled, rubbing her eyes so the girl was more visible to her.

“Why are you not in your quarters with Katya? My aunt doesn’t like guests out their room at hours like this.” Aquaria folded her arms, squinting her eyes scrutinisingly.

“Aren’t you a guest?” the blonde questioned, her eyes finally adjusting to the darkness.

“No, I live here permanently. Do you even know who I am? Do you know who my mom is?” Trixie shook her head, so Aquaria continued. “My mother is Sharon Needles— worldwide jazz phenomenon who’s constantly touring the world. I haven’t spoken to her in months. She’s stopped writing to me. I only see her at Christmas time but then she’s off on tour again. It’s nice having an extremely famous mother, but it also fucking sucks. So, this is my home.”

Trixie was moved by the story. She felt awful for the poor girl. Fame and fortune seemed like every little girl’s dream, but isolation exists - and this girl was suffering. 

“I’m sorry.” Trixie sighed, slouching over her shoulders and pinching the bridge of her nose. “So, why are you awake this late?”

“I like midnight swims. I feel like it cleanses my soul. Takes all the heavy weights off my stomach.” Aquaria explained, Trixie noticing the soft red towel flung over the former’s shoulder. “And you’re still awake because—”

“—Couches are uncomfortable, I guess. Yekaterina claims to be sick sooo, here I am!” the American allowed her body to collapse back onto the couch.

“You seem sad.” the Italian observed. 

“No; just tired.”

“Well I’ll leave you to it then. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

It took another half-hour, but Trixie finally began to doze off, her eyelids getting unbearably heavy and her brain switching off. 

**—————**

Breakfast the next day was perhaps the most awkward and uncomfortable situation Trixie had ever been in. The only people communicating were Tatianna, Yvie and Jose, discussing the new second-hand book store that had just opened in town. Trixie was far from attentive, just staring into her extremely yolky eggs. There was tugging at the figurative knot inside her every time she felt Katya’s eyes scan past her. Speaking of the Russian, she must have had an incredibly deep sleep, considering all her alleged “sickness” had completely disappeared.

“So, Beatrice, how do you feel about taking a bicycle ride into town today? You haven’t explored anywhere outside the grounds yet.” Tatianna suggested, buttering a fresh slice of brown bread with immense concentration.

“Yeah- uh- that sounds nice.” Trixie nodded, softly wiping the corners of her mouth with a coral coloured serviette. 

“Forse la ragazza può venire con me. Stavo entrare a vedere Kim, così lei può sempre unirsi a noi.” _(Maybe the girl can come with me. I was going in to see Kim, so she can always join us.)_ Aquaria suggested, taking a long sip from her water glass. Trixie spotted the slight dampness to her hair. It clearly hadn’t dried yet from her midnight swim, despite the blaring sun. 

“Questa è un'idea perfetta. Kimberley e Beatrice andrebbero d'accordo incredibilmente!” _(This is a perfect idea. Kimberly and Beatrice would get along incredibly!)_ Tatianna beamed before turning to the blonde American. “Aquaria has offered to take you into town with her. She’s stopping at her friend’s place on the way. I think you’d like her friend. Maybe you can all go into town together?”

“Yes, yes. Thank you. That sounds great.” Trixie flashed a small smile at Aquaria.

“Well I was planning on leaving now so, are you ready?” Aquaria asked, excusing herself from the table.

“Let me just grab my sunglasses.” Trixie chuckled, sprinting to her room. She glanced over at Katya’s bed when she reached it. It had been made perfectly, but still kept that messy touch to it. The American sighed before grabbing her shades and rushing back down the stairs, Aquaria greeting on the landing.

“You can ride a bicycle, _destra?”_ the Italian questioned, leading the blonde outside where two nicely kept looking bicycles stood.

“I think so, yes.” Trixie replied, approaching the bicycle that Aquaria was not stood by. It was a pastel-mint colour with a small straw basket at the front. 

“So can I let you into a secret?” Aquaria leaned in uncomfortably close to the blonde, whispering in her ear. Trixie nodded slowly, shuddering slightly. “There’s a Jewish boy that i’m seeing. Works at his mom’s art store in the town centre. We’ll be paying there a visit...”

“So are we actually going to this Kim girl’s house?” Trixie wondered, climbing on her bicycle in sync with the Italian girl.

“Yeah, yeah. Jus’ making a couple other stops too.” she grinned before setting off. “Come on then!” she called after for Trixie, who then joined Aquaria. 

Trixie began to pedal after her, making a weak attempt to try and catch up with the Italian’s immense amount of speed and momentum.

“So, this Jewish boy...” Trixie perked up, breaking the what felt like eternal silence between the two of them. Aquaria smirked in response, prepared to share all her knowledge of the boy to the _‘nosy american’—_ which is a name that Katya had secretly gifted the blonde rudely the previous night. Aquaria overheard her use it whilst talking to Yvie, and Yvie protested to it, explaining that it was immature and disrespectful. Katya didn’t seem to care.

“His name is Maxwell. I’ve been seeing him for a little over two months now, I believe. Nice muscles, loveable personality. He actually grew up in New York!” Aquaria explained, slowing down her peddling ever so slightly — just so Trixie wouldn’t run herself down, get out of breath, tire herself out and then collapse. Aquaria was quite the over-thinker, might I add. 

“And who’s this Kim girl your aunt mentioned?” the blonde questioned, shuffling around on her bicycle seat so it wouldn’t _completely_ impale her vagina. 

“Oh, Kim Chi? She’s one of my best friends. We share a love for fashion. We travel to the mainland every fall for Milan fashion week. It’s always the best!” Aquaria beamed, practically glowing at the opportunity to discuss her passions. Both girls returned to vigorously concentrating on their peddling, looking out to the road ahead. “Speaking of Kim, this is her place.” Aquaria swing her legs over one side of her bike, the bottom of her shoes scraping the rough gravel as the vehicle came to a halt. She hopped off, followed by Trixie.

“Does she live alone? It’s a small place...” Trixie observed, gazing at Kim’s door which had been messily painted dandelion yellow.

“No, no, no. She lives with her _“friend”_ Naomi.” Aquaria did air quotes at the use of the word friend. “Don’t tell a soul, but I swear they’re fucking! _Brutte picole lesbiche!”_ _(Nasty little lesbians.)_ Aquaria joked before knocking on the bright yellow door thrice — rather aggressively, might I add.

 _“Sto arrivado stronzo!” (I’m coming asshole!)_ A voice boomed from the other side of the bright door. It swung open seconds later, revealing a curvy girl around the same height as Trixie. She had long, black hair tied into two pigtails, with thin, choppy bangs in between. Her makeup was detailed and eccentric, leaving Trixie unsure where to fixate her eyes. “Quest è la bionda bianca americano con le enormi tetts e culo, giusto, Aquaria?” _(This is the white American blonde with the huge tits and ass, right, Aquaria?”)_ the woman asked, sending Aquaria into fits of ugly laughter.

“Ha ragione, si!” _(You’re right, yes!)_ Aquaria replies between snorts and chuckles. Trixie cringed abundantly but kept her gaze on the large woman in front of her, who then turned to her, smiling. 

“I am Kim, pleased to meet you.” she introduced, a lisp audible in her English tongue which was unidentifiable in her Italian patois. She greeted Trixie with two air kisses in the direction of her cheeks. “My, my. Dare I say you look like Dolly Parton.” she added, this time sending Trixie into fits of giggles. 

“She’s my absolute favourite musician so that is the _biggest_ compliment!” Trixie grinned before noticing Aquaria seemed confused. The truth is, the Italian didn’t have a clue who the fuck ‘Dolly Parton’ was. Perhaps the country blonde bombshell wasn’t such a phenomenon on the remote Italian island of Stromboli. 

“Well, come in. Naomi is making a salad but I warn you in advance, she’s refusing to wear anything other than underwear in this weather so...” Kim led Trixie and Aquaria through to their bijou little kitchenette, where they were greeted by an abnormally long-legged, half-naked woman.

“Ciao belle signore!” _(Hello beautiful ladies!)_ the woman —who Trixie presumed was Naomi— exclaimed, immediately pulling Trixie into a tight hug. “I am Naomi. Are you Betty?”

“Beatrice. But jus’ call me Trixie.” the blonde blushed. 

“So, do you like caesar salad?” Naomi asked, pulling away from the confined embrace. 

“I have never had it before but I am sure it’s wonderful.” Trixie replied. Kim lead them to their small kitchen table, the large salad in the centre, along with a glass of Negroni set by each place, accompanying each piece of cutlery. 

They were eating in silence for quite a while. The salad was lovely, but the sexual tension between Kim and Naomi was even lovelier. Soon enough, Naomi broke the peaceful silence.

“So, I heard you are sharing with Yekaterina?” she asked, taking a small sip of her Negroni which she kept recklessly waving around in the air. Her voice reminisced Trixie’s sister’s, meaning it sounded tedious and dead, despite the dark skinned Italian seeming like an extremely joyful and passionate woman.

“Yes, I am.” Trixie sighed, looking down into her drink, occasionally jolting her wrist, causing the liquid to swirl around in the glass.

“That’s unfortunate.” Kim smirked, fiddling with the corner of the red gingham table cloth. “I’m wondering when she’s finally gonna stop visiting Miss Santolini’s place each summer and just moved in with the French girl permanently. God they think they’re so discreet!” 

Aquaria, Kim and Naomi all laughed together, clinking glasses, but Trixie was left slack-jaw, her mouth gaping open.

“What’s wrong, Trixie?” Aquaria paused her chortling to ask, still chewing on a lead of iceberg lettuce whilst she spoke.

“I um— I just— I saw Violet and Katya... _doing things—_ yesterday. They saw me and screamed at me as if I killed their mom. That’s why Katya hasn’t been speaking to me...” Trixie explained, feeling a wave of relief and content wash over her as the words escaped her lips.

“Oh please! She’s delusional. We’ve all seen them. No one gives a fuck! It’s the age of Aquarius!” Naomi screeched, clearly losing her sobriety by the second. 

“There’s no reason she should be blanking you the way she is, though. I thought you two were hitting it off great at first...” Aquaria shrugged, picking at her nails which had been painted a deep shade of red.

“So did I...” Trixie exhaled, slouching back into her seat, allowing her mind to wander off whilst the buzz of conversation became a distant hum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comment if you can; i adore all comments - i don’t even give a fuck if it’s constructive criticism. i just get so excited when i get an email about any kind of comment.


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